Curtis and Edgar, initial treatment and visiting hours

[simon_doctor]

It's been a rough day for Curtis and Edgar. Fortunately, the Milliways infirmary is definitely set up to handle hypothermia and exposure.

[Icon above notwithstanding, Simon Tam is not actually appearing in this thread.]

Comments

[hate_gettin_older]

"But I --" His voice is unsteady. "I din't ever want to say any of it."

[2goodarms]

He hitches one shoulder, still not looking up.

"Probably for the best you did."

His voice isn't flat. It's just...empty. Too tired to care anymore.

[hate_gettin_older]

His throat hurts.

"Doesn't feel like it."

[2goodarms]

"I was fucking terrified when they handed you off to me."

No eye contact. No change in tone.

"Probably took three months to get over that. Finally started changing to...maybe if I did okay with just this one thing, out of all the other shit going on, that'd make up for it. As long as I didn't fuck this up I'd be okay."

Curtis shakes his head, heavy, ponderous.

"'Cept I'd already permanently fucked everything up. There's no fixing that. If nothing else I probably should've stopped trying when you finished growing up."

[hate_gettin_older]

And why those last few words, of all things, should make his eyes start burning again --



"When d'you figure that was, then?"

[2goodarms]

"I don't know." He swallows. There's a knot in his throat that he can't get out, like the words are still tensed up, shivering in the cold. "Legally it used to be sixteen or eighteen. Depended where you were from."

Not that that kind of thing mattered too much on the train.

[hate_gettin_older]

Legally. Like that means anything anymore. Like that could possibly mean anything next to Curtis saying that, saying when you finished --

"And what was I supposed to think," he manages to say, "if you'd just stopped?"

[2goodarms]

He shrugs again.

"It doesn't matter." Low. "It didn't happen."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Good thing for me you didn't, though," he says to the far wall. "Right?"

[2goodarms]

He glances up.

(If I'd cut you loose, he wants to say, you would've stayed back in the Tail with the others.

And probably ended up dead anyway. But -- )

Cautious -- and more hopeful than he realizes -- Curtis says, "You think?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"I mean if you'd left me alone last night," he says, low, "like I wanted you to, I'd have fuckin frozen to death out there."

[2goodarms]

"Yeah."

He shifts as carefully as he can so as not to disturb Dejah.

"But you probably wouldn't've been out there in the first place, either."

[hate_gettin_older]

"No," he insists, "that's not the point. That's not what I'm saying."

[2goodarms]

Curtis eyes him.

Then what? the look says.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar works one hand free of the blankets to dig fingers through his hair.

"I dunno how to say it. I'm still ... I mean mad isn't even the fuckin word, I mean, that doesn't just go away, what you did. But even with that, even ..."

He swallows hard.

"I'm not sorry I followed you. I'm not sorry you followed me."

[2goodarms]

"But -- "

He clamps down on the sentence before anything else can escape. Curtis isn't even wholly sure how he'd end that sentence.

But why the hell not? seems like the most likely candidate.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar's silent, staring at nothing.

[2goodarms]

He swallows.




"I wondered a lot what it'd be like if you found out," he whispers. "Whether that'd finally be enough to get you to fuck off and stop...treating me like I was some kind of god."

One corner of his mouth pulls to the side.

"I never wanted you to treat me like that. But I didn't really want you to fuck off for good, either. I still don't."

[hate_gettin_older]

He blinks, hard.

(Some kind of god, he says. What other kind of god did they have, back in the tail? Who else did they have to look to?)



"I missed you. All this time."

[2goodarms]

He breathes out, shakily.

"I missed you, too."

[hate_gettin_older]

Fuck, he is not going to cry.

"I just, I din't want to -- I couldn't look at you and not think about --"

[2goodarms]

"I know."

The blood on his face. The echo Curtis didn't even realize.

The extra years Edgar could've gotten with his mother.

[hate_gettin_older]

He shuts his eyes, turns his face into the pillow.



"And I don't know what to do now."

[2goodarms]

You're asking me? he wants to say. And can't, of course.



"Well. I kind of...moved in with Dejah while you were gone." Quiet, and as steady as he can. "So if you're -- if you ever want the old room back. It's yours."

Which doesn't solve the issue of Edgar sleeping alone. But at least the room's already set up to be as comfortable as possible for someone from the Tail.

"And I mean even if you don't, you've got her room number. You ever want to talk, or...whatever. Nothing you don't wanna do, but."

Another small shrug.

"Door's always open to you."

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar grinds his face against the pillow, trying to wipe his eyes without using his hands, before he looks up again.

(The effect is more to redden his eyes than anything else.)

Muffled: "Good to know."